


Poultice Pouch

by Snartz



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 07:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2804414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snartz/pseuds/Snartz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of prompts I have filled all centered around Solas and Inquisitor Lavellan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt asked for Cole going into a rant about a BDSM encounter. The rest of the companions are shocked to find out that it was about Solas and the supposed Herald of Andraste.

“ _Harder. She begs, fingers twitching and pulling at the straps. She wanted to be free. To trail her fingertips over the nape of his neck. Force him closer. But he hushes her, and her movements cease. Be patient, he orders. Head between her thighs. Licking. Kissing. Giving her more. But not enough. She teeters on the edge, pleading for one last push…..No._ “ Cole took a deep breath and placed his cheek in his open palm, wrinkling his brow. “You wanted to….but you said no. I do not understand…” He trailed off, staring up at the brim of his hat in contemplation.

Sera snorted, and covered her mouth to prevent the ale from spilling past her lips. With a hasty gulp, she dug her elbow up into the ribs of the large qunari beside her. “You’re a bad one, yeah? Knew you liked that freaky shite.” The elven woman snickered and banged her mug on the tavern table. Chin pressed against the wooden grain, Sera sighed wistfully. “This is the happiest day of my life.” The Iron Bull rubbed his knuckles on the top of Sera’s head roughly. “The kid s’not talking about me.” His gaze shifting to gauge the reaction for the others circling the table. He spread his fingers to peer at his cards once more, analyzing the others from his peripheral vision.

The Seeker moved first, balking as a flush spread across her nose. “Cole…I do not think this is the best time to..” She trailed off as Cullen shifted his weight on the bench, and just like that she turned her attention to him. “Commander?! You..!” The blonde man waved his hand quickly as if to deflect the question physically, revealing to the whole table his hand. “I am not part of this. I assure you.” Cole cut into the conversation then, removing his stare from the worn leather of his hat and setting it at the end of the table. “Why?” He pushed once more, this time expecting an answer.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t know Chuckles had it in him.” Varric appraised the elf with a renewed sense of interest. Solas shrugged his shoulders and pushed his bet to join the ever-growing pile in the center. “Perhaps one should not be so quick to judge, Child of the Stone.” The corner of his mouth curled, stretching the scar beneath the fat of his lip. “As for you Cole, pleasure is best when built up over time. The longer you are willing to wait, the greater the benefits you reap.” Sera gawked, Cassandra seemed unsure of where to put her hands, and Cullen started to giggle behind a gloved fist. The Iron Bull let out a bark of laughter as he turned over his cards, revealing two Priestesses. The other’s slumped in their chairs, tossing their cards in a huff. Standing, the qunari stretched his arms across the pile to drag it closer only for a hand to rest itself against his forearm. Two cards were shoved into his face, and his grin quickly fell from his face. He glared at the depictions of the Magician and the Priestess, and begrudged removed his grasp from the coins.

Solas slid the pile into a pouch he had removed from his belt, and tied it shut firmly. “Unfortunately, I must make my leave. Perhaps we can all meet again next week.” He made to leave, pausing before the opened door and offered a quick smirk to the group. “Though at this rate..” He trailed off to raise the hefty pouch, patting at its weight obnoxiously “you may not have much to offer next game.” With that he left them nursing their mugs of assorted liquor and empty pockets.

 


	2. Blow Your Whistle Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asked for Lavellan teaching Solas to whistle.

The noise sent a shiver up his spine and left him cupping one of his ears quickly. Fingers pressed to his earlobe in an attempt to will the dull ache away. 

"Why do you persist? I asked you to cease doing such things." Solas grumbled, hastily dipping his brush back into the paint in order to finish as quickly as possible. He could hear her passing behind him, and frowned when she started to scramble up the ladder. "You always say that. I think you are just jealous." The elven woman knocked shoulders with him playfully, causing paint to splatter and drip onto his tunic. Solas' eyes flicked down thoughtfully at his clothing before he plunged two fingers into the paste and smeared it across her cheek roughly. "Vhenan, you see that I am preoccupied. Perhaps we can continue _this_ another time..." He was not asking, more so as demanding her to leave him. But she ignored his orders and flicked paint at him instead. 

"I can teach you." The Inquisitor grinned when Solas gave a reluctant nod. "Very well, but you must leave once we are finished. I would rather not repeat what happened last time." He frowned and cast a longing gaze to his once lovely sofa now splattered, streaked, and permanently covered to protect it from any further abuse. She clicked her tongue and shook her head quickly. "A fluke! You know that was not my intended result." The woman patted his shoulder to draw his attention back to her. But he remained quiet and made a motion for her to get on with her teachings. 

"Lavellan. I am interested in this no longer. Please remove yourself from my company." Solas commanded, wringing his hands together in a show of mortification. The Inquisitor had collapsed into giggles on the wooden platform, her arms wrapped tight around her abdomen as if her innards were going to seep out at anytime. "Y-you can't..! Oh Creators! _The face you made!!_ " She snickered, finally gaining enough control to heft herself into a seated position. Solas was seething and contemplated nudging her off the platform. She had fallen from it before. Surely a little bump on the head would not hurt her. "You jest. It is impossible to do such a thing. You must have one of Scout Hardings flutes in your mouth." 

Striking his hand out, he grasped her chin tightly. "Move your tongue" She sighed and parted her lips to touch her tongue to either side of her cheeks. "See. No flute." She remarked smugly, tapping a finger against his nose. "No need to be ashamed. There are plenty things you are amazing at." Eyebrows wiggled to send the innuendo home.

She was answered with a firm flick on the middle of her forehead before the hand slid down to pet her jaw lightly. _"You are exasperating."_ Solas caressed her cheek with his thumb tenderly, the paint flecking from her skin with his movements. Leaning in he touched his forehead to her's in a brief show of affection and when he pulled away, he waved a hand to the ladder. "Now away with you. I am far too busy to take part in your foolish games." Coming from anyone else the phrase would have been biting, yet he had nothing but fondness etched across his face which drew a wink from the woman.

Once she left the rotunda, unable to come up with an excuse to linger, Solas let his forehead rest against the bare wall. The man stared at the droplets which had seeped into the fibers of his trousers, sucking on his teeth in contemplation. He had not expected her to be so vibrant in comparison to the dulled shell the People had become. 

Perhaps there was still hope for them yet.


	3. Hope For Them Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asked for the first time Lavellan surprised Solas

It was hard at times. To realize that the information he offered often fell on uncaring ears. He had chose to be here. To offer insight and guidance only to be brushed off their shoulders as if he were made of dust. Solas realized that perhaps too much time had passed. That maybe society had evolved past his knowledge of personal interactions. No longer did they appreciate wisdom or facts. Their ears had become deaf to all information contrary to their beliefs.

So he did what he had to, forcing his way into their conversations. Spreading his opinions out before them, making it so that they had to address him.

To realize that they needed him, regardless of how begrudged they felt.

He had become accustomed to this way of communication. Relishing in the condescending looks of The Seeker and the permanent frown on the dwarf’s face. He had adapted quickly, perhaps too quickly. Leaving him rather caught off guard when the prisoner questioned him. The other’s had done so but mostly out of obligation not the genuine curiosity which light up the elven woman’s face.

He had paused for a second, trying to decipher her ulterior motive as he answered her as casually as one could with the sky’s seams threatening to open above them. The gentle lilt of her head had him scrutinizing her further.

It was almost laughable.

Out of all those he had come in contact with recently, it was one of the People whom listened to him. The hands of the Divine had heard him. Had watched the movement of his lips and had reacted to the words that coated his tongue, yet they did not listen.

Listening was understanding. It was curiosity. It was a chance to gain new knowledge. A new perspective. All of which they denied to entertain, choosing instead to bask in their ignorance. But there she was. 

Prodding him for more.

He humored the prisoner, answering her as bluntly as possible, moving his gaze from her form to the ever growing rift ahead of them. Realization dawned on her face then, almost as if she had forgotten where they were. The sight made him far more uneasy than he would like to admit.

The key to their salvation was on the hand of an easily distracted child.

His stomach churned unpleasantly as he turned to follow the Seeker down the natural ramp of the mountain. Digging the blade of his staff into the ice in order to maintain upright, a hand caught him on the sleeve. Her palm felt as if it scorched through the knit of his robe, forcing himself to bite down on the gnawing feeling to pull away, Solas met her gaze with a questioning quirk of his brow. The elven woman offered an unsure smile, letting her hand linger on his bicep. “Could you possibly tell me more of the Fade? It seems like you are quite knowledgeable on the topic..” She trailed off before giving a nervous chuckle “Between you and me, I witnessed a few things in there that..” She swallowed audibly “I am not sure what to make of.” He nodded unconsciously, prompting her to continue. Solas provided answers as aloofly as he could, but his mind was elsewhere, lingering on the severity of the situation.

Reaching the checkpoint, Solas' gaze lingered on the backs of his companions as they brushed past him to converse with the Chancellor. He adjusted the position of the straps cradling his pack, analyzing the debris and wounded soldiers around him.

Today‘s events were unexpected and even after all that had occurred within the span of a day, Solas' eyes landed on the clutched fist of the only other elf on the mountain.

It would be a shame if the surprises were to end. 


	4. Kisses Are Meant To Be Shared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asked for the first time Lavellan thinks about kissing Solas, and vice versa.

The Herald was not going to sit still. She was determined that Solas was intentionally trying to make it as painful as possible. 

“S-stop! I need a break!.” She squirmed further, attempting to shrug his firm grip from her shoulder. “If you do not cease your movements, I will drive this to the bone.” He remarked unable to quell the tinge of worry that colored his tone. Sweat welled on the nape of his neck as he gripped the broken shaft, pressing a firm hand against her breast to prevent further loss of blood as he jerked on the splintered wood. Her mouth fell open in a mute scream as he tossed the remnants of a bandit’s arrow and pressed his palms hard against the wound. “

“Lavellan. Pay attention."

He compressed the swell of her breast in an attempt to staunch the blood seeping between the gaps of his fingers. “The last thing we need is our gallant leader submitting to shock. Cole! Where are those webs you promised?!” Solas all but barked over his shoulder, and in the next moment she went numb. The gentle flow of magic absorbing into her veins as he chilled the wound. “I am no healer, so I must make due with what we have…Lavellan?” He called to her, but she was preoccupied.

The world seemed to glide around slowly, twirling about her playfully. The woman squeezed an eye shut, trying to quell the feeling of nausea building in her throat and gasped at the sudden catch in her lung. Shifting her gaze down, she noticed Solas pressing a bundle of matted webs to her wound.

“Thought you were supposed to be the best mage to ever exist ever…” She managed to taunt him weakly, allowing her head to fall back to the moist dirt beneath her. He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head as he tucked the webbing beneath her stained robe. “Save your humor for a time where it is actually needed.” Satisfied with his work, Solas called over to Cassandra and motioned her to bring the horse. “Herald, I...We must hurry back to camp. Hopefully, we have more materials there. Or perhaps we could send for a healer.” Cassandra bent down to grab beneath her knees while Solas grasped for purchase beneath her arms. On the count of three, they hefted her onto the mount as carefully as the could but the jostling irritated the inflamed injury drawing a hiss from behind her clenched teeth.

The warrior grabbed at the reigns and tugged the horse in the direction of the camp. “That was rather quick thinking Solas.” He could only nod, and press a hand to the curve of the elven woman’s back firmly to prevent her from falling as they traversed the rocky terrain. Cole patted the horse on its rump thoughtfully. 

“She is asleep. The pain can not reach her. Good.” The corners of Cole’s mouth jerked into a soft smile.

They reached the camp well after dusk, thankful that Solas had managed to conjure a persistent flame along the way so that they were not left stumbling in the dark. 

Tying the reigns to a nearby post, Cassandra began assigning duties to the nearby officers telling them to join her in the search for healing supplies. Cole quickly helped Solas lower the wounded woman from the mount and carry her to a nearby tent where they placed her on the small cot that resided within.

Solas washed his hands quickly in the nearby basin and made to shoo Cole from the tent which caused the boy to shake his head furiously. “I can help.” Cole interjected quickly, sidling up to Solas to dunk his fingers into the basin as well. The elf bit the inside of his cheek and reluctantly nodded “Very well, Cole. If you wish to help then I will not deny you from doing so. Discard the robe and dressing. Both of which seem unsalvageable.” The spirit went to work unbuckling the belt laden with pouches which he handed to the mage quickly, and then went to work removing her blood soaked tunic. Solas rifled through the pouches, sighing in relief when he found a few blooms of dried embrium. Kneeling down beside a crate, the elf lifted out a mortar and pestle and went to work grinding the herbs into a paste.

Concentrating on working water into the thick paste to thin it out, Solas tried to ignored the gasp from behind him but reluctantly glanced over his shoulder and was met with Cole clasping his hands tightly together with a look of confusion across his face. 

“What is it, Cole? Is the injury worse than we at first thought?” Solas prompted turning back to mixing the paste. “She wishes my hands were not mine.” That remark had Solas carrying over the stone bowl, raising a questioning brow as he settled on the edge of the bed to apply the concoction.

Scooping it up with cupped fingers, Solas smeared the mixture over the wound, careful not to reopen the already drying scabs. 

“What exactly do you mean, Cole?” 

“She wishes your hands were mine. Or rather, my hands were your’s.” 

He stared at the spirit, his fingers stilling on her skin. “My hands?” He analyzed the Herald’s face once more, but it was completely blank accept a twitch at the corner of her mouth. 

“Lips begging to be touched. ‘Kiss me’ She would plead and he would. Because she is hope. Smart. Lively. Vibrant. So vibrant it hurts.”

“Cole..” His voice was hard and his hands withdrew from her flesh to wrap her torso with the bandages one of the officers had managed to find for them. He could faintly hear Cassandra asking the requisition officer for her report in the silence that fell over the tent. 

“She would not mind. She wants you to. ‘Why are you so handsome when you are worried?’ Hand against her breast, pushing more and more until the pain fell away. ‘What would those lips feel like against my own' The last whisper before the darkness came.” Cole smoothed out the furs beneath him, shaking his head and making to leave. 

“For you it was sooner. The time she toppled her tent. Twisting beneath the leather and giggling. So loud and pure. Flashes of better times hidden behind a mask. All crooked teeth and freckles, gasping for air between fits of laughter.” 

“Cole.“ 

A small smile took over his pale face which he covered with his fingers, eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat. 

“Kisses are meant to be shared, Solas. Even I know that.”


	5. Vallaslin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asked for Lavellan being upset about Solas leaving her, and taking her Vallaslin with him.

It hurt.

Every glimpse she saw had her doubled over in anger, nails digging into her palms to stave off an outburst. Her face seemed far too blank.

_Empty._

It made her feel like a child once more. Times where she yearned for the pretty little lines to be bestowed upon her own cheeks. 

_Now…_

Each time she saw her reflection she wanted to crush the mirror. Wanted to boil the river. Shatter the ornate vases from Orlais. Grief and spite bubbled deep in her gut, spreading to her limbs and out her mouth where it dripped upon the stone. Here she could vent her rage. Hidden from the prying eyes of her friends.

She flung her arm out, her clenched fist cracking against the delicate mirror. The glass split, fracturing underneath her blow. The webbed surface just refracted the image, leading to dozens of small blank faces to gaze back at her. Spitting she threw the frame to the floor, and with a flick of her fingers, the broken décor sizzled into flames.

It was not enough. It never was.

She paced from one end of her room to the other, sneering at the pretty little mirage before her. Fingers twitched and she grasped the edge of her bookcase, and yanked with all her weight. The sudden movement caused the balance of the wooden shelves to shift and crash to the floor. The books once cradled neatly in precise rows, now spilled across the floor. Pages that were once cared for were ripped and crushed between the fallen bookcase. The sound brought a shadow of a grin across her split lips. 

She toed the ripped parchment, relishing in the satisfaction her actions brought her. However, the feeling did not last long, and soon enough she was scouring the room for another scapegoat. Her gaze landed on the upper loft of her room. The wall had been painted with hands she had once thought to be honest.  Hands that belonged to a man she thought had loved her. 

Upper lip twitching, she scaled the wall and grabbed a pouch of crushed powders roughly causing them to puff and spill onto the floor. She ignored the mess, and quickly added water to a small pot. Working the mixture into a light paste, she dipped her hand into the mix only to smear the deep red over the images in a quick strike. Her abdomen fluttered at the feeling, and so she moved again. Hands pressed to the rough stone as she smeared the mixture over the rocks. Urging the images to hide behind the fresh coat of paint. To be forgotten. It took her far longer than she had first thought it would to finish. Knees connecting with the floor, she slumped and leaned her back on the railing to gaze up at her masterpiece.  

To be forgotten. 

It took her far longer than she had first thought it would to finish. Knees connecting with the floor, she slumped and leaned her back on the railing to gaze up at her masterpiece.  

> _“Remember, ma Vehnan, the most important step is to analyze. Evaluate the world and discern whether the flaws take or add to the result. “_

She shooed the memory away by flinging the paint pot at the stone wall. The ceramic burst into tiny shards and the paint was propelled onto the highest part of the wall, splashing up to nestle between the rafters. Dull eyes stared up at the ceiling, taking in the splatter that threaten to drip on her. Waiting she closed her eyes and rested the back of her skull against the railing.

She used to be _proud_.

The knowledge she had cherished had all been a farce, and how utterly cruel was it to find out that the one thing that made her swell in her breast was actually a symbol of control. Of a time in which her people had been worked to the bone. She flinched as a droplet struck down across her eyelid to curl across her cheek. Her eyes twitched and peeked open as another droplet tapped her on the chin, trailing its way down her neck. With a sigh of submission, she raised herself up on her sleep stricken legs, gripping the unsteady railing in order to gain her balance. 

Stepping off the last rung of the ladder, she practically launched herself on her bed. Rubbing her cheek against the rough wool of the duvet, she laid there in silence trying to smother her thoughts. She wished he would have told her sooner. When his eyes had first landed on her, what did he think? Why did he not tell her? How many times had she passed him on the way to the library, and was met with only a nod or a quick smile? All this time and she just now was learning she had been walking around with egg on her face. For

All this time and she just now was learning she had been walking around with egg on her face. For years she had held her head high and now… fingers clutched tightly at the pillows as her shoulders shook. The first hiccup bubbled between her clenched teeth, and before long she was cascading into gasping sobs. Her lungs felt shriveled, and she struggled to regain control of the flood that was threatening to burst behind her eyelids. Lavellan laid still, counting the threads of the pillow willing the tears to dry before they streamed down her unmarked cheeks. One heavy breath later, she gathered herself up and straightened her issued apparel. She tucked her locks behind her pointed ears and scrubbed the flecked paint from her face.

Mask firmly in place, she exited her room at an achingly slow pace. Hand dragging along the rough railing as she descended the staircase. Unable to delay herself any longer, the elven woman hesitated, her palm hovering in front of the door. A grin forced its purchase on her lips as she pushed her way out into Skyhold’s massive hall. Ignoring the shocked and curious gazes, the Inquisitor raised her head and strode to the war room with an air of confidence.

She refused to let them see her ache and wallow in her sorrow. 

Straightening her shoulders she burst into the war room, the advisors ceased their conversation at the sight of her. Not acknowledging their stunned expressions, she motioned to the Emerald Graves.

“Leliana, we need more leather. Can you arrange for your spies to set up a connection with the hunters there?” With her voice firm and her eyes sharpened like a fine blade, she set her gaze on the spymaster who faltered before giving a nod of her head. “Very well. Cullen, I heard you had a report for me?”  She had lived her whole life behind a false mask, and she saw no reason to stop now.

She had lived her whole life behind a false mask, and she saw no reason to stop now.

 


	6. Interrupted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asked for a heated debate ending in an almost kiss before they are interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This escalated to NSFW rather quickly.

“You are overreacting.” 

It did not surprise him that he almost agreed with her. He was taking the situation far too personal, his connection to the Inquisitor clearly clouding his judgment.

But the feeling of unease welling in his chest could no longer go unrecognized. 

“You are incorrect as always. I am just merely showing you that I had been right in my assumptions. You have no idea what a comfort that is to me.” Solas leaned back, resting his weight against the desk waiting for her reply. 

He was not kept waiting long. 

She hovered around him, circling his position as if checking him for vulnerability. The perfect place to bury her blade. The sound of her footfalls skidding to a stop had him steeling himself. 

When she struck out, she always made sure to leave a mark.

“Actually, we gained quite a few valuable resources from this expense. Not to mention quite a few allies. All of which would not have occurred had I not went through with it and instead listened to your piss poor advice.” The Inquisitor sunk down into his chair, picking at the tomes resting upon his desk absentmindedly.

“How many more lives could have been saved had that gold been put to better use? How many starving refugees would have had meals to fill them? New armor for the recruits. Adequate healing for our injured. You-” His eyes narrowed, searing down on her. “made a mistake, and are far too proud to admit it.”

She sneered at him “Me? Prideful?! This is coming from a man whose name means  _pride_! Whose every action is steeped in _pride_. Slathered with condescending looks and claims all others ignorant! I did what I believed was best for the Inquisiton!”

“Oh. In that case please accept my _sincere apologies_.” He mockingly bowed to her “I was unaware that spending ten thousand gold pieces on an oversized nug benefited us.” Solas threw up his hands in exasperation. “But what should I know? I am too busy trying to reclaim Elvhen heritage to realize when an action is committed in order to benefit us. I do not know of difficult choices nor harsh decisions. For if I did-” 

He towered over her, hands resting on each arm of the chair. 

“ _I would realize this one was neither_.” 

The woman flinched back as if he struck her, hands gripping the chair as if she were about to rip it apart. “ _I am in charge, Solas_.” She ground out between her bared teeth “Although I appreciate your criticism, it is not wanted nor needed. My advisors and I discussed it at length and we _unanimously_ decided that it was the best course of action to take.” 

“'The best course of-' Surely you are joking. I was unaware that I was a part of an organization run by feeble-minded children.” 

“No one else is complaining, Solas! No one except you! You make it a point to undermine all of my decisions. Can you just, _for once_ , not say anything?” 

“So you would rather I smother my opinions? You know that I only offer guidance, which you readily ignore. I will not have my voice silenced, nor will I mindlessly accept the choices you make for us. Every mission and every report, affects us Inquisitor.”

He let out a huff, baring his teeth at her. “It is not my fault the others do not realize this!” 

They glared at one another, faces contorted in anger as they awaited for the other’s next move. 

The devilish grin that took over the woman’s face outlined she had something in mind. 

“Why even pretend anymore? We both know how this will end.“

Her hand grabbed the collar of his robe roughly and gave a hard tug, forcing his knee between her thighs in order for him to maintain balance. Solas allowed himself to fall into her, his hands finding purchase on the back of her thighs to heft her up into his arms. 

“It is possible that I enjoy seeing you flounder over your words.“ Thighs squeezed his waist firmly and ankles crossed behind his back as Solas sat her on the edge of his desk to free his hands. 

“I’ll have you know that I am quite adept at arguing.“ 

He made a noise of neither agreement nor discord, fingers trailing beneath her casual wear and over the lean muscles of her abdomen, finding pleasure in the way his touch made her shiver. His exploration came to a halt at her ribs, only continuing once she nodded at him eagerly. 

“You better not stop now if you know what is good for you” A groan at the playful nip of her shoulder had her silenced.

“I would not dream of it.” Solas nuzzled her neck, sliding a hand to fondle her breasts still nestled beneath the band covering her chest. 

“I am unsure as to why you adamantly wear this. It is not as if you need it.” 

She snorted at his comment, her fingers fumbling at the clasps of his vest. 

“Well I suppose I should count myself lucky that you are a fan of my ass” 

He hummed appreciatively, pulling away from the bruise he had made at the junction of her neck and shoulder. 

" _Among other things._ "

She leaned back to recline on the desk, propping herself on her elbows. 

“That so?” She wiggled her eyebrows, the grip around his waist trapping him between her spread thighs. 

“I take it that you wish for a... _demonstration_?” 

Leaning over her, he intentionally grinded down against her, drawing a content sigh from her parted lips. Hands placed on her cheeks, Solas drew her in for a kiss but halted when he heard someone clearing their throat overhead. 

“Ahem. While I do _appreciate_ the little show and am curious as to if you truly do cry out ‘Elven Glory’ when you consummate, I feel as if it is my duty to inform you of your growing audience.” Dorian snickered, leaning over the railing of the library and gestured to the other prying gazes. 

Solas narrowed his eyes up at them, not at all shocked that he saw the Spymaster peering at them through a looking glass. 

“Many thanks, Dorian.” Solas managed to grumble out, rather unsettled that he had allowed himself to fall into this situation. 

“ _My room._ ” 

He blinked, remembering the stiffness in his breeches.

“Ah, yes.” 

With that they made their hasty leave, leaving Dorian calling out after them.

“If you do so happen to call it out, do me a favor and let me know. I have quite a large sum of coin riding on you Solas!”


	7. Asking For Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combined two prompts. They asked for Solas reminiscing about the fade kiss, and Inquisitor Lavellan injured with Solas tending to her.

They had done so before. Indirectly of course. The pass of waterskins quite common between them. But this was on an entirely different level of contact. The press of her mouth against his still raw.

Solas had analyzed the scenario constantly since then, asking himself why he had acted in such a primal manner, but there was no answer to be found. He could have easily denied her. Turned her advances away and directed them elsewhere, yet he did no such thing. He had pulled her tight against him, tasting her mouth as if he had been fasting for years. He had savored the feel of her tongue against his and the way she met his passion with equal enthusiasm. 

A moment of distraction welcomed if only for that second in time. 

Solas knew that perusing her would only end in heartache. To broken promises and unfulfilled wishes. To actions which would only grow guilt in his lungs. But he was selfish, and the thrill of her hand upon his was too much to ignore. 

So he submitted. 

Allowing himself to be whisked away in the tousled strands of her hair as she brought a knee up into a Venatori archer’s chest, bursting the air that had welled in their abdomen. He was faintly aware of the staff twirling between his open palms, channeling a spell down the length of the wood and sending it at the archer, his mind far too muddled with the breathless image of her parting lips roughed red by his mouth. 

When the body crumpled and shattered to the ground, Solas folded his arms across his staff, leaning his weight against it as he waited to see which path they would take. The man’s shoulders fell slightly as he felt his mind wandering once more. 

It would be far easier if she were not someone of importance. A tryst would be easily forgotten but this…he knew it would turn into an affair. A doorway that allowed feelings of something _more_ to develop, and it shocked him that the idea of such things did not trouble him as much as they should. 

Setting aside the topic and his worry for another time, Solas followed his companions up the mountainous path focusing instead on the task before them. He could hear Sera’s crude comments about a woman in the past town to Iron Bull, and he scowled at their raucous laughter. To speak so plainly and unabashed about their desires would draw out demons, his eyes searching the trees that towered above them. They would need to use caution, he warned the other mage in their party as he caught up with her short strides. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, grinding her teeth together habitually, giving a short nod to show she heard him. 

Interesting. 

He leaned closer to her ear and asked if there was something on her mind. The startled jerk of her shoulders spoke volumes. Solas soothed a palm over her hitched shoulder blades, giving her what he meant to be a reassuring smile but it only seemed to rattle her further. Letting his hand fall from her robe, he tsked.

He would never understand the Dalish. 

****

Solas let out a groan, kneeling down to rub at his sore toes. They had been climbing for the majority of the day, and the trek was beginning to wear on them all. Sera had succeeded in tumbling down the razor cliff at least twice last he had counted. Splitting the skin of her knees open, but thankfully she managed to avoid getting the worst damage possible from her falls. The qunari was trying his best to not show the strain was taking a toll on him. The sweat on the middle of his back reflecting the light of the setting sun as he adjusted the harness of his massive axe once more, giving away his exhaustion. As for their leader, she appeared no worse for wear. Her arms stretched above her head as she rolled her presumably sore muscles, catching his gaze she flashed a quick grin. It seemed that she had been able to overcome what had been troubling her. 

Good. They did not need any distractions, he reminded himself and made to stand up, but the rumble of the earth caught him off guard. 

The vibrations toppled him to the ground as well as knocked Sera off her feet and into the bushes. “PISS!”She spat, struggling to shake off the brambles and branches. “Did not sign up for this, Herald! That was a dragon, innit?” The Iron Bull’s grin as he loosened his axe from its bindings were all that answered her. “Oh piss!” They jumped to action then, readying their weapons and ducking into the underbrush to gauge where the roar had come from. The mercenary pointed two fingers up ahead of them and to the left. “Boss?” His question condensed into one word and the anxious shift of his posture as he awaited her order.

The Inquisitor gave him a nod, causing his lips to crack into a grin. “Alright!” With that they charged into the fray, weaving and crouching down to avoid the flames. 

****

Solas had known it would end horribly as it almost always seemed to. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to will away the faint whisper of a growing headache. They had been reckless and they all were paying for it. 

He pushed the door open with his shoulder and limped up the stairs, avoiding putting much of his weight on his left ankle. Reaching the top of the stairs made him want to crumple to floor in relief, but he swallowed the feeling knowing that it would be difficult standing if he did so.

Juggling the cup of tea between his wrapped palms, he approached the bed warily. “Is there a reason as to why you drink this swill?” He placed the cup into her upturned hand, careful not to jostle the hot liquid.

“I personally find it pleasant and relaxing.” The woman sighed wistfully as she inhaled the steam “But I supposed we can not all have your impeccable taste, Solas.” 

He lounged in the chair set beside her bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he assessed her. She seemed to be improving rather quickly, the pain no longer stuttering her movements as she balanced the cup on her thigh. Her back was pressed against the pillows, hair rendered a frazzled mess due to being bed ridden. 

She looked as if she had a plume of wool on her head. 

A chuckle slipped from his lips as he commented on her disheveled appearance. Not taking to his comment kindly, her face screwed up in frustration. “It is not as if I can do much on my own. It is hard enough to ask Mother Giselle for assistance in dressing.” She snorted and turned her nose up at him, dismissing him with the simple movement. The man ignored her blunt dismissal and reached out to card his fingers through the matted mane. 

“Do not be ashamed to ask for help, Lavellan. Everyone has asked for assistance at one time or another.”

“Even you?” 

His brows furrowed as he gave her a curt nod, untangling her hair with tender fingers. 

_“Especially I.”_

He halted his movements to peer around the room for a comb, his fingers rather inadequate at taming her locks. Spotting it on the vanity, he made to raise himself but the fingers that weaved between his caught him. 

“When was the last time? You seem to always be content with your abilities. You make your own potions, stitch your robes, and even prepare your meals. I just can not imagine you ever needing another.” 

The question tightened around his neck like a noose. He knew that his answer would remove the false floor beneath his soles, sending him crashing to the earth and breathless.

With a deep breath and against his better judgment, he ignored the ramifications and sat on the edge of her bed, reaching out to caress the back of her hand with his thumb.

“It was not outright, mind you. Distance had become a way of life, it was a comfort once but the appeal had vanished long ago. She noticed this. I am still unsure as to how she knew, but I saw it in her actions. The invitations to trek outside the camp to collect elfroot. The way she seemed genuine in her attempts to learn more about my interests. About me.” He clasped her hands tightly, trailing his fingers over the scars sprinkled across her flesh. “Thank you, Lavellan. I did not ask for such a precious gift, but I am grateful.” He brushed his lips across her knuckles, his mouth lingering a moment longer than needed. 

The action had the Inquisitor clearing her throat nervously, pulling her hands away to grasp at the cup of chilled tea. Her grip trembled as she raised it to her mouth, unsure of how to answer or react to this revelation. Not allowing her the chance to speak, Solas stood from the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles in his tunic. 

“My apologies, Inquisitor. If you should ever need anything, I will be at your disposal.” The smirk before he descended from her room had her burying her face into one of the pillows at her side. Surely she had imagined the way his eyes had softened as he gazed at her. Had mistaken the expression on his face as fondness.  She clutched at the covers.

Did he honestly wish to pursue something with her? 

The lingering memories of their shared kiss in the Fade had her clasping a hand over her mouth. 

It certainly seemed so.


End file.
